The LAOAFVFTDOEIE: Now Accepting Applications!
by Sakura Shinguji-Albatou
Summary: An evil organization of fantasy villains joins forced to interview more fantasy villains for membership, and eventually to take over the universe!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Happy birthday, Dilandau Albatou! In honor of Dilly-chan's birthday, I'm re-upping this story. I still have no idea why deleted it, but hopefully it'll stick around this time.  
If you reviewed it the first time, please be kind and do so again…I'll love you forever.

**The LAOAFVFTDOEIE – Now Accepting Applications!  
Chapter 1 - Enter the High Council o' Much Evilness**

Out of most of the people in the world who work and all of the ones who don't, villains have the hardest job. Nobody likes them, but the Hero would be nothing without them. It pays great, but the hours stink like week-old sashimi left to marinate under a Texas sun, and sooner or later they end up either dead or turned cloak. (Erm, coat.) No matter how strong they are, they have to lose, because they are the Bad Guys.

And so, in a burst of inspiration spawned from a combination of standardized tests, Jolly Ranchers, and Coulomb's Law, the LAOAFVFTDOEIE—the Loose Alliance of Assorted Fantasy Villains for the Domination of Everything in Existence—came to be. Yep. That's how it happened. Just ask anyone.

The LAOAFVFTDOEIE headquarters was a typical gothic castle, complete with gargoyle statues and bats, located in the heart of a fiery volcano, smack-dab in the middle of a noxious wasteland, on a distant, remote planet, immediately to the left of a black hole. It boasted a grand total of six-hundred and sixty-six guardian dragons, fifty torture chambers, the largest armory known to sentient beings both dead, alive, and neither, an assortment of the rarest spell components, and a twenty-four hour IHOP.

Blue-burning torches—donated courtesy of the Zaibach Empire—cast a pale light over the room. A red and black banner crested with the symbol of the LAOAFVFTDOEIE—a large scribble—hung from the wall. (Being villains, they could not agree upon a sign—Raistlin wanted an hourglass, Sauron an eye, and Dilandau just wanted to burn everything—and so they ended up with a scrawl.) Beneath the banner sat a large, black, stone table; behind the table sat ten heavy chairs of ornately carved, dark wood. Each place held a crystal goblet of red wine, a raven-quill pen, parchment, and a bowl of assorted nuts.

The large, wooden door creaked ominously as it opened, and Raistlin Majere—President of the LAOAFVFTDOEIE due to the inability of the other members to assassinate him thus far—entered, his black robes swishing softly, the cowl pulled low over his face. In filed the other officers silently behind him—Dalamar Argent: Vice-President, Blachloch: Secretary, Sesshoumaru: Treasurer, Queen Mab: Historian, Melkor: Parliamentarian, Sauron: Head of Security, Sang-Drax: Chief Monitor of Good Guy Activity, Dilandau Albatou: Head of Torture, and Pirotess: Reporter and editor of the LAOAFVFTDOEIE's weekly newspaper. In unison they sat, and first spake Raistlin of the hourglass eyes. "Bring in the first candidate." 


	2. Chapter 2

**The LAOAFVFTDOEIE – Now Accepting Applications!  
Chapter 2 – Voldemort**

"Bring in the first candidate." Melkor rose, bowed to Raistlin sissy-British-style, strode to the door, and opened it.

"First candidate!"

A tall, blonde young man commonly known as Rand al'Thor the Dragon Reborn entered—backwards, no less, for he sported a face upon both sides of his head. Melkor returned to his seat.

Blachloch dipped his quill into his inkwell. "State your name and profession." The grotesque growth sprouting from the back of Rand al'Thor's head spoke.

"Voldemort—_Lord_ Voldemort. Wizard."

"Not another wizard!" Dilandau Albatou propped red-booted feet on the table and lit his quill on fire.

Queen Mab glared at him. "As the only one present with no magical abilities, you should keep your comments to yourself!" she rasped.

"And you should use some of that magic to fix your voice!" Dilandau retorted. "You sound like a chain smoker!"

"Quiet!" Melkor snapped.

The door burst open, and a man rushed at Raistlin, a large sword raised above his head. "I will be President!"

Raistlin sighed. "Ast kirannan kair soth-arn suh kali jalaran." A fireball shot from his hand and consumed the not-assassin.

Dilandau giggled psychotically, stroking the scar on his right cheek. "Burn! Burn! Hee hee hee!"

Raistlin gestured casually to the pile of ash. "Clean that up, Sauron." The giant, flaming eye left its seat to find a broom.

Raistlin returned his attention to the growth. "As you are aware, the LAOAFVFTDOEIE is a prestigious organization for the most evil of the evil. You must present us proof that you are worthy." The gold-skinned mage indicated his companions. "For example, Sauron attempted domination of a world. Sesshoumaru holds all of feudal Japan in his power. Sang-Drax nearly imprisoned an entire race of people inside a living Hell. Dilandau Albatou single-handedly razed an entire country—" Dilandau interrupted him.

"—and two capitols, an outpost—"

"Silence!" Raistlin snapped. Dilandau presented the archmage with a certain digit, which Raistlin returned with a lightning bolt. "And I nearly slew the Goddess of Darkness and took her place," he finished.

"Tell us, what malicious deeds have you accomplished?" Dalamar inquired. The Voldemort-possessed al'Thor straightened.

"I killed James and Lily Potter."

Sesshoumaru drummed his fingers on the table, his claws punching holes in the stone. "Who the hell are they?"

Voldemort/al'Thor swallowed nervously. "And I pick on schoolchildren!" he added defensively.

"But they continually thwart you?" Pirotess asked, leaning forward. The growth nodded.

"But the entire wizarding world holds my name in fear!"

Blachloch sniffed. "I would beg to differ!"

"Can I kill him?" Dilandau asked, a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Wait." Raistlin folded long-fingered hands. "Even Pirotess played only a small role. Perhaps, Voldemort, a demonstration of your power?"

"This had better be good," Blachloch muttered.

"Yes! A demonstration! My magic is beyond compare!" Voldemort/al'Thor patted his pockets. "Uh…I think I've left my wand in my other body."

"Enough!" Melkor slammed a fist on the table. "Thou art the most pathetic, miserable excuse for a villain that I hath ever laid mine eyes upon!"

"Can I kill him yet?" Dilandau asked.

Melkor continued. "Even Sesshoumaru art more evil than thee, and he hath a soft spot for little human children!"

Sesshoumaru growled, the whites of his eyes going red. "Leave Rin out of this!"

"Can I kill him now?" Dilandau asked.

Melkor raised a fist. "How doth the High Council vote?" Nine raspberries greeted him. He addressed Raistlin. "With thy permission, President?" Raistlin nodded. "Wouldst thou, Sang-Drax?"

"Gladly." The elf rose from his seat.

Voldal'Thor glanced around frantically. His eyes fell upon Dilandau. "Alone!" he shouted. The albino froze. Voldal'Thor grinned. "Alone! Alone alone alone alone alone!"

Dilandau screamed, doubling over, clutching at his head. "No! Chesta! Gatti! Don't leave me here all alone!"

Sauron rolled his Eye. "Oh, not again! I knew we should have appointed Cool Mint as the Head of Torture instead of him!"

"But, my Shalafi won't allow him to hold an office until he keeps his Rose of Death on a leash," Dalamar reminded him.

Meanwhile, Voldal'Thor had tiptoed to the door.

"You can't get away!" Sang-Drax grew, his body swelling into that of his true form—a gigantic, toothless, slimy serpent with one glowing, red eye, the other having been put out by a Good Guy. He lunged, and with a loud crunch not unlike that of a potato chip his mouth closed over Voldal'Thor.

Raistlin glared at the screaming Dilandau. "For Lunitari's sake, someone shut him up!" Melkor delivered to Dilandau a strong blow upside the head. Dilandau slumped forward—and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed young woman straightened. Raistlin signed as Sang-Drax returned to his elf form and took his seat. "Fix him, Sesshoumaru."

Sesshoumaru stood, unsheathed the Tenseiga—the sword of healing—and impaled Celena Schezar upon it. In a spout of pink flames the woman turned back into a man.

Dilandau shook his head. "Hey! _I_ wanted to kill him!" He lit his parchment on fire, sulking.

Raistlin sighed. "These mortals are idiots. Bring in the next candidate."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I've never seen Orphen's real name written out, so I guessed. Sorry if I got it wrong. This is your brain. (Holds up brain.) This is your brain on novels. (Draws smiley face on brain.) This is your brain on Math. (Draws frustrated face on brain.) This is your brain on drugs. (Draws unhappy face on brain.) The moral of this story? NEVER LET SOMEONE REMOVE YOUR BRAIN AND DRAW FACES ON IT! GEEZ! (Tosses brain over shoulder and leaves.)

**The LAOAFVFTDOEIE – Now Accepting Applications!  
Chapter 3 – Hartia**

"Bring in the next candidate."

Melkor opened the door. "Next candidate!"

In confidently strode a dark-blue clothed young man with shoulder-length, red hair, a dragon pendant, and freckles. He glanced around, seeming a bit confused, then settled on a classic arms-folded Bad Guy Position in front of Raistlin.

"Name and profession." Blachloch waited, his quill poised in the air.

"Hartia. Wizard of the Tower of Fang."

"He's got freckles!" Dilandau whispered. "Bad guys don't have freckles!"

"The little boy with no pigment shouldn't criticize," Queen Mab hissed.

Blachloch began to write, then looked up. "Hartia as in heart the organ, or hart the rabbit?"

Hartia looked momentarily taken aback. "Uh…hart the rabbit."

"Another wizard," Dilandau muttered. Queen Mab elbowed him.

"We're a fantasy organization! How many members do you think we'll find who aren't wizards?"

"I'm not a wizard." Dilandau jerked a thumb at himself.

"Nobody knows what you are," the witch shot back. "Can't even pick a gender and stick with it."

Dilandau sat up. "Hey! I told you, that was NOT my fault!"

"Silence!" Raistlin ordered; then a coughing fit overtook him, blood staining his lips. "Eeeeews" chorused from the rest of the High Council o' Much Evilness. Raistlin wiped the blood away with the sleeve of Dalamar's robes, and returned his attention to Hartia. Sang-Drax conjured a can of Lysol and silently passed it to Dalamar.

"So, you wish to join the LAOAFVFTDOEIE?" Raistlin asked. Hartia opened his mouth to speak, but Raistlin interrupted him. "No, don't answer that, fool! It is a rhetorical question! Why would you be here if not to join us?"

"I don't know," Hartia answered.

"That was rhetorical too! Young man, this interview is not getting off with a good start!"

Raistlin paused. A white haze had begun to fill the room with a loud hiss. The archmage glared at Dalamar, who stopped spraying his arm and sheepishly pushed aside the can of Lysol. Dilandau grabbed it and burned it in a glorious fireball.

"Tell us, Hartia," Sauron began, "what evil doings have you committed that would qualify you for the LAOAFVFTDOEIE? Gods, that's a long acronym! We need to change our name!"

"Bring it up at the next assembly," Raistlin told him.

Hartia thought a moment. "Evil doings? Uh…" He straightened. "My mission is to recover the Sword of Baltanders and prevent Krisanelo from turning the Bloody August into a human!"

"Sounds like a Good Guy's mission to me." Sesshoumaru flexed his fingers threateningly.

"No! No!" Hartia held up his hands to ward the dog-demon off. "You see, the Bloody August is a human who got turned into a dragon! So, the Good Guys are trying to turn her back, and I'm trying to stop them!"

"Not the most evil mission I've ever heard of," Blachloch said, toying with a gilt-edged Death card.

Hartia whimpered. "I'm new at this!"

Dilandau yawned. "Let's kill him."

The door flew open, and inside leapt a toad-demon carrying a staff with two heads upon it. "Lord Sesshoumaru will be President!" Jaken cried, bringing the staff around. Raistlin pointed.

"Kalith karan, tobanis-kar!" A magic missile shot through Jaken.

Raistlin eyed Sesshoumaru. "So, you wish to usurp my position?" The dog-demon shrugged.

"Don't we all?"

"I don't, Shalafi," Dalamar said.

"Liar." Raistlin turned him into a black rabbit.

Pirotess rose. "I'll get rid of it."

"Just toss him out the door," Sesshoumaru called. "He'll survive." Pirotess hauled Jaken up by his collar and chucked him out the door, knocking the hat from Captain Hook's head and possibly giving the readers some foreshadowing of chapters to come.

Raistlin picked up Dalamar the Bunny. "Have you learned your lesson?" Dalamar the Bunny nodded. "Good." Raistlin placed Dalamar the Bunny in his chair and turned him back into an elf.

Hartia drew himself up to his full height, which was either scrawny or impressive depending upon whom he stood next to. Compared to a small child, Hartia was a giant. Compared to a telephone pole, mountain, or other such tall object, Hartia was a skinny dwarf with no beard. Clearly, he was of average height. Either way, he possessed a mouth and a set of vocal cords, and he employed them now.

"Do not misjudge me! I am more powerful than any of you may suspect!"

Raistlin smiled, and the other members of the High Council o' Much Evilness cowered in fear. "Prove it. Mab?"

"It would be my pleasure." With a thought, the witch summoned the most terrible, horrifying, and generally un-aesthetically-pleasing creature she could imagine without throwing up.

"Pika!" The electric rat beamed at Hartia. "Pikachu!"

The red-haired wizard recoiled. "It's hideous!" The rest of the High Council o' Much Evilness nodded their agreement.

"Get rid of it," ordered Blachloch, who had gone rather pale himself.

"Pika!" Pikachu scampered toward Hartia, who frantically thrust a hand in the air.

"Take me up!" As if hurled from a giant slingshot, or perhaps a gnomish toaster, Hartia sprang up to land on a rafter in the ceiling.

"An odd cantrip," Sauron noted. "But apparently effective."

"Pikachu!" The rat/lemon/Duracell cross-breed looked up at Hartia in confusion.

Sweat trickled down Hartia's face as he crouched on the wooden beam. "I can't do it! It's too hideous!"

"Guess we'll have to kill him, then." Dilandau reached for his sword.

"No! Wait!" Hartia took a deep breath.

The lights all went out, the only illumination coming from the great, flaming Eye seated next to Melkor. A spot of glowing crimson appeared in midair, growing brighter, brighter; now it took form—a giant mousetrap! It landed softly next to Pikachu, and the idiot Pokemon was just witless enough to investigate. The trap snapped shut and exploded in a shower of tiny, plastic Hello Kitty figurines that dissolved upon impact with the ground. With a gasp of "Chu!" Pikachu flopped over, kicked several times, and bit the dust. Dilandau enthusiastically applauded the explosion.

Hartia floated himself down from the ceiling—the spell gave out halfway and he landed in an unceremonious heap. With a gesture from Melkor the torches re-lit.

Raistlin glanced at the other members of the High Council. "What do you think?"

"He hasn't done anything very evil yet," Sang-Drax commented.

"But he has a lot of potential!" Dalamar argued. "And he faced and slew Pikachu without fainting!" The others nodded slowly.

Melkor cleared his throat. "How dost the High Council vote?" Eight evil laughs and one psychotic giggle resounded through the room.

Melkor turned to Hartia. "Congratulations, thou hath passed. Step forward and enter the ranks of the wicked!"

The High Council o' Much Evilness stood as Hartia approached, relief plastered across his face like peanut butter down a much-used stairway railing.

Raistlin set upon the table a large, black tome. "You will place your left hand upon the spellbook and raise your right in a fist."

"Sesshoumaru, please demonstrate," Dalamar added. Sesshoumaru glared at him. Dalamar snickered.

Hartia followed the order, left hand upon the spellbook, right clenched in an upraised fist.

"You will repeat the Creed of Tyranny," Raistlin instructed. "I, Hartia-"

"I, Hartia-"

"-do hereby pledge to kill whomever I please-"

"-do hereby pledge to kill whomever I please-"

"-take whatever I like-"

"-take whatever I like-"

"-achieve my ambitions at any cost-"

"-achieve my ambitions at any cost-"

"-especially if they involve the downfall of others-"

"-especially if they involve the downfall of others-"

"-provide no explanation for my actions-"

"-provide no explanation for my actions-"

"-and cut down all Good Guys where they stand."

"-and cut down all Good Guys where they stand."

Cheers erupted from the High Council o' Much Evilness, along with the throwing of red-and-black confetti.

Melkor led Hartia to the door. "If thou wilt follow Cool Mint—he doth be just outside the door, the one with the scarf on his head and the rose that art killing that guy—-he shall take thee to be registered and make thy membership card." Cool Mint led Hartia away. "Next candidate!"


	4. Chapter 4

**The LAOAFVFTDOEIE – Now Accepting Applications!  
Chapter 4 – A Waste of Time**

"Next candidate!"

The door opened, as doors are wont to do—they also have the ability to shut, but, once hut, can only perform the action of opening. A tall figure clad head to toe—literally—in black swept in to stand confidently in front of the High Council.

"Name and profession," Blachloch droned.

"Vader, Lord of the Sith," the deep voice replied.

Dalamar leaned over. "He wheezes like you, Shalafi," he whispered. Raistlin frowned and clobbered Dalamar with the Staff of Magius. Dalamar flew across the room like an unladen swallow (European) to impact with the wall and slide down to the floor.

Sauron jabbed a nonexistent finger at Vader. "Half a minute! Thou art not even a fantasy villain!" Vader folded his arms.

"Star Wars is a sci-fantasy! Don't you imbeciles know anything?"

"It's not good enough! Thou shalt die!"

"It would not be wise to attack me," Vader warned, "for I have complete mastery over the Force!"

"Let me deal with this one." Sesshoumaru stood, flexing his fingers.

"You cannot defeat me!" Darth Vader raised his hand in a clenching gesture, and Sesshoumaru rose from the floor in The Grip.

"Foolish mortal." A ribbon-like whip of green magic flared to life around Sesshoumaru's hand; he lashed out, and the Sith Lord's black helmet, head still inside, rolled to a stop beside the dead Pikachu. Seshoumaru landed on the table on his feet, as opposed to his head or buttocks or other body parts also commonly landed on, knocking over goblets of wine and scattering mixed nuts.

Melkor poked his head out the door. "Next candidate!"

In shuffled a small, dirty being. In one hand it held a very dead rat, the pointer finger of the other hand had been shoved all the way up its nose.

Raistlin straightened. "Bupu! What are you doing here?" Bupu grinned.

"I find pretty man!" Blachloch pinched his nose.

"Ugh! The smell!" Sauron hopped from one nonexistent foot to the other, a nonexistent smirk upon his nonexistent face.

"I don't have a no-ose! I don't have a no-ose!" he sing-songed smugly.

"Let me kill it!" Dilandau begged. Raistlin shot him a glare.

"No."

"Pleeeease? I gotta kill something!"

"Should I get rid of it, Shalafi?" Dalamar asked.

"You will not harm Bupu!"

"Hmph!" Sesshoumaru tossed his head. "And they call me weak because of Rin!" Raistlin opened his mouth to reply. His lungs took that opportunity to try to escape, and the dark mage spent the next few minutes coughing in attempt to imprison them again.

"Pretty man sick!" Bupu hunted through her pockets. "Me find dead lizard! Cure cough!"

"No, that's quite all right," Raistlin wheezed.

"I'm getting rid of that thing!" Queen Mab pointed a finger at Bupu.

"You will not!"

"What are we going to do with it?" Sang-Drax argued. "It's too stupid to be a villain!"

Raistlin sat back. "We need a custodian. Bupu, clean up those bodies."

"Me do what pretty man says! Make pretty man happy!" Bupu slung the dead Pikachu over her shoulder, grabbed Darth Vader by the ankle, and kicked his head out the door, trailing a smear of blood on the floor behind her as she left.

Melkor shook his head. "Next candidate!"


	5. Chapter 5

**The LAOAFVFTDOEIE – Now Accepting Applications!  
Chapter 5 – Sadamara-Suh**

"Next candidate!" Raistlin called. The door opened, and Cool Mint and Sacher Torte wheeled in a television and VCR upon a cart. The High Council o' Much Evilness blinked in unison.

"A TV?" Dilandau questioned, pausing in his attempt to set the table on fire.

Cool Mint tucked his Rose of Death into the scarf around his head and dropped down to his hands and knees, hunting along the stone wall for an electrical outlet. Dalamar gestured at the television, and it sprang to blue-screened life.

"Thank you, my lord." Sacher shoved a videotape into the VCR, and he and Cool Mint scurried out the door.

Sauron stared at their retreating backs. "What could be on yon video that is so evil that they beith more afraid of it than of us?" he wondered. The Council shrugged, and focused their attention as the video began, flashing images of people crawling on the ground, a man standing with a towel over his head, a close-up of an eye, etc. etc, you all know the video.

When the picture stopped at the image of a well, the Council looked at each other.

"What's with this thing?" muttered Sesshoumaru.

"I don't know!" Dalamar told him. Sang-Drax pointed.

"There's a girl coming out of the well!"

A young girl in a white dress climbed out of the well, lurched her way across the grass, and shoved her arms through the television screen.

"She's coming out!" Pirotess shrieked.

The girl staggered to the table and stood silent for a moment. "I take it you received my application?" she asked. Raistlin folded his hands.

"If you're here, then apparently we did!" he snapped. Blachloch dipped his quill into his inkwell and began to write.

"State your name and profession."

They couldn't see her face through her hair, but all had a distinct feeling that she was glaring at them. "My name is Yamamura Sadako. Some know me as Samara Morgan or Eun-Suh."

"Multiple aliases." Melkor nodded. "A good start."

Blachloch continued to write. "And your profession?"

"Revenge," Sadako told them. "And as a hobby, I like to invent new viruses," she added.

The members of the Council looked at each other.

"Revenge!"

"A very evil profession indeed!"

"We're all after revenge." Dilandau propped his feet up on the table, having discovered that he could not burn it. "What makes yours so evil?"

Sadako laughed. "Mine is extra evil because I'm a little girl."

Raistlin spoke a magic word, and a portfolio appeared in his lap. He shuffled through the papers. "I don't see your application here," he told her. "How long ago did you submit it?"

"Seven days."

Raistlin pulled out a piece of paper dripping with water. "Ah, yes, I remember it now." The papers and portfolio disappeared. Gripping the Staff of Magius, he narrowed his golden eyes. "My eyes see time as it pases," he hissed at her. "Flowers wilt, flesh decays. But you—you remain unchanged."

"I am already dead," Sadako told him. "I was murdered, and I want everyone to know! Thus my revenge begins!"

"But, you're just a child!" Queen Mab rasped. "How many people have you killed?"

"So far?" Sadako counted them off on her nail-less fingers. "Sixteen Japanese, five Koreans, and five Americans, give or take. What with all the different ways I've done it, it gets hard to keep track. You mortals all look the same to me. And I've driven four or so more people to insanity." Queen Mab nodded slowly.

"Not bad, not bad."

"Here are my references." With a flash, images printed themselves upon three piece of parchment before Raistlin—one showed a girl's face contorted in the rictus of a death-scream, one whose face was melted and contorted, and one of a girl who had grown pointed ears. Raistlin nodded in approval and passed the photos down the table.

"How do you do this?" Sesshoumaru questioned, tapping the pictures with a pointed nail. "Magic?"

"Nensha. I'm not giving details until you let me in."

The room fell silent as the Council considered the situation. "Climb back into that television," Raistlin told her finally. "We need to discuss your application privately."

"I want in."

"Do not argue with my Shalafi!" Dalamar growled. "If he tells you to leave, leave!"

Sadako pulled her hair aside and glared at Raistlin, face fully uncovered. "That's a nice eye," he told her sarcastically, "now get the hell back into that well until we've come to a conclusion."

Sadako sighed. "You have seven minutes," she told him, letting her hair fall back in front of her face, turning, and climbing back into the television.

When she disappeared back into the well, Raistlin looked across the Council. "I now open the floor for debate."

Sang-Drax waved t he pictures in the air with amazement. "She's amazing!" he exclaimed, "this is the most evil applicant we've had yet! Maybe even more evil than YOU, President!"

"Impossible!" Dalamar argued. "However, I must agree that she is QUITE evil!"

"But, she's not from a fantasy," Blachloch pointed out. "She's from a horror!"

Queen Mab held up a finger. "Yes, but it has many fantastical elements! The killing by looking at people, for example, and this cursed videotape!"

"Curses are quite magical," Sauron agreed. "I hath employed many myself, and this is a good one."

"Enough debate!" Raistlin doubled over coughing, then regained his composure, wiping the blood from his lips on Dalamar's sleeve. "It is time. How doth the High Council vote?"

Seven evil laughs, one psychotic giggle, and one raspberry echoed through the room. All turned to Blachloch.

"You still do not approve of her?" Melkor questioned. Blachloch shook his head.

"She's from a horror, I tell you, not a fantasy! I've heard of her story, and she's definitely a horror/sci-fi!"

Dalamar groaned. "Must we debate about this more, Shalafi?"

"No. I override this imbecile's vote." Folding his hands, Raistlin addressed the television. "You may return, Sadako."

Once again the girl crawled out through the television. "Well?" Raistlin nodded to Dalamar.

"On a vote of eight to one, the LAOAFVFTDOEIE has decided to accept your membership," he announced. "Congratulations."

Sadako did not seem excited. "Who voted against me?" she asked.

"I did," Blachloch sneered. She turned her head toward him, then back to Raistlin.

"I want to be on the Council."

"Sorry, but all the spots are full," Sesshoumaru told her.

Sadako lurched her way to Blachloch and pulled her hair aside. There was a photographic flash, and Blachloch screamed; his face distorted grotesquely, and his ears sprouted points. He toppled over, dead.

Letting her hair go, Sadako turned back to Raistlin. "How about now?"

The Council members looked at each other and shrugged.

"Sure."

"Why not?"

"Never liked him anyway."

Raistlin placed upon the table a large, black tome. "You will place you left hand upon the spellbook and raise your right in a fist." Sadako completed the pose as instructed, left hand upon the spellbook, right clenched in an upraised fist.

"You will repeat the Creed of Tyranny," Raistlin instructed. "I, Sadako, or Samara, or Eun-Suh-"

"I, Sadako, or Samara, or Eun-Suh-"

"-do hereby pledge to kill whomever I please-"

"-do hereby pledge to kill whomever I please-"

"-take whatever I like-"

"-take whatever I like-"

"-achieve my ambitions at any cost-"

"-achieve my ambitions at any cost-"

"-especially if they involve the downfall of others-"

"-especially if they involve the downfall of others-"

"-provide no explanation for my actions-"

"-provide no explanation for my actions-"

"-and cut down all Good Guys where they stand."

"-and cut down all Good Guys where they stand."

"Moreover, I do swear to uphold the position of Secretary-"

"Moreover, I do swear to uphold the position of Secretary-"

"-as evilly as I possibly can-"

"-as evilly as I possibly can-"

"-until I resign or am overthrown, whichever the case may be."

"-until I resign or am overthrown, whichever the case may be."

The High Council o' Much Evilness cheered and set off sparklers, much to Dilandau's delight. Sadako staggered around to the other side of the table, dragged Blachloch's body out of the chair, deposited it on the floor, and took his place. "Next candidate," she growled.


	6. Chapter 6

**The LAOAFVFTDOEIE – Now Accepting Applications!  
Chapter 6 – Mogget**

"Next candidate," growled Sadako/Samara/Eun-Suh. Melkor opened the door, and in trotted a small, fluffy white cat. Pirotess frowned.

"What's that cat doing here? Who does it belong to?"

"Can I burn it?" Dilandau asked automatically.

"No!" The High Council chorused.

"It may be an applicant's familiar," Raistlin observed. "Throw it outside and bring in the next candidate."

"Why do _I_ have to do it?" Pirotess whined. "Make Sadako, she's the newest!"

"But you're still the lowest-ranking," Dalamar pointed out. "And she's more evil than you. So go!"

"If you're finished with your little squabble," the cat interjected lazily, "could we move on to discussing my application?"

Every head at the table stopped and turned.

"Did that cat just speak?" Sauron asked, blinking his Eye in astonishment.

"I certainly did," the cat replied with a shake of its head that sent the tiny bell on its collar ringing. It yawned, stretching. "You wouldn't happen to have any fish, would you?"

"No fish," Dalamar told the cat, shuffling through a stack of papers, "but there were muffins and orange juice in the hallway."

"Muffins." The cat wrinkled its little pink nose with contempt. "Well, are we going to get on with this interview or not?"

"Name and profession," Sadako told the cat, dipping her quill in her inkwell and dripping water onto the notes she had already made, blurring them.

"Mogget," the cat answered, straightening up, looking a bit more alert. "Or _The_ Mogget. The rest should be clearly stated on my application."

Dalamar conjured several more portfolios, rifling through them frantically. "Wait—Shalafi, I can't find his application."

"Give me those!" Raistlin snatched one away, coughing blood into the N section. "You put it in the Ms, didn't you? You didn't file it under T like an imbecile?"

"Yes, Shalafi, I'm sure it's in the Ms, but—"

Melkor grabbed the portfolio away from Raistlin, deftly avoided a bolt of lightning from the Staff of Magius, and peered into it. "There are several pages here which seem to have similar spellings. However, I see none that are signed with paw prints." Queen Mab glared at the cat.

"Just how did you get in here with no application?" she rasped, fingers moving as she readied a spell. The cat licked the back of its paw.

"What makes you think that, just because I don't have hands, I can't write?"

Dilandau snatched the portfolio away from Mab. "Damn wizards," he muttered, opening the M folder, "they've got all those spells in their heads, but no common sense. Here!" He pulled out a sheet of paper and shoved it in Raistlin's face. "It was right there, Your Holy Nearsightedness!"

Sesshoumaru frowned at the application over Raistlin's shoulder—it was neatly filled out in flowing script, signed "The Mogget" with a grand flourish. "Well, what do you know?"

Raistlin un-conjured the various portfolios and smoothed the application out on the table before him. "Well, then—" he paused and lifted the Staff of Magius, pointing it at Mogget. "Kalith karan, tobanis-kar." A missile of light shot out of the orb in the dragon's claw, striking the sleeping cat in the head and sending him yowling and jumping. "If you're going to waste my time like that, you can consider your application refused."

"It's not _my_ fault," Mogget sulked, indicating the bell on his collar.

Raistlin gave the paper a cursory scan, then folded his long fingers and addressed Mogget. "I see here that, for your list of past professions, you've simply written 'stuff'. Could you please elaborate?"

"Well, I don't really get to do much now that I'm locked up in the Abhorsen's house. Except sleep. And wait." Mogget eyed Raistlin. "Are you sure there aren't any fish around here?"

"Positive." Raistlin waved his hand, and the application disappeared. "Why don't you tell us about a few of your evil pursuits?"

"Start with the worst and work your way down," Queen Mab instructed. Mogget didn't speak. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"I'm waiting for you to clarify the meaning of 'worst'," Mogget told her. "Is it 'worst' in the general usage, or 'worst' as in the villains' common usage of the word as a synonym for 'best'? Are you asking me to tell you the most evil thing I have ever done, or the most righteous thing I have ever done?"

"The most evil, of course!" Raistlin spat, glaring at the little cat that had the audacity to lecture _him_ about vocabulary.

"Ah, good. At least one of you knows what he's talking about." Mogget narrowed its eyes in what would be, in a human, an indication of careful consideration. "I suppose one of the worst things would have to be the time that I helped the Abhorsen and her merry little band to seal away the Destroyer." The cat nodded. "Yes, I believe that was quite nasty of me."

Mab slapped the table. "Evil? You call that evil?" she cried, leaping to her feet. "You helped to stop a force that would have destroyed your world? That's the very _epitome_ of goodliness!" She snapped her fingers, and a walkie-talkie appeared in her hand. She thumbed it on. "Attention all personnel, we have heroic infiltration—"

"It's not heroic," Mogget interrupted calmly, "if I was supposed to be on the Destroyer's side."

Mab blinked. "Eh?" Dilandau snatched the walkie-talkie from her hand and burned it in a glorious fireball that singed the tips of his hair.

"To the Abhorsen, my deeds were very heroic. But to the Destroyer, my deeds were very, very evil." The Mogget gave a feline shrug. "It's all a matter of perspective, really."

Mab blinked again, this time to put out the small fires smouldering in her eyelashes. "I never thought of it like that."

"That deed is too ambiguous," Raistlin remarked with a wave of his hand. "Give us another."

"I can't believe you're still using walkie-talkies," Dilandau muttered to Mab. "Is that the best technology you've got? My Dragon Slayers and I use cell phones."

"A wizardess has no need of technology!" Mab cried in frustration, and before Dilandau could point out the obvious contradiction, she had turned him into a red Game Boy Pocket.

Raistlin cast a silencing glare at Mab, but made no move to restore Dilandau to his proper form. "Give us another," he repeated, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on, because it wasn't, at least not compared to what _could_ be going on.

Mogget pondered for a moment in the same way that a person would, but on a smaller scale. "I refused to join the Charter," he said off-handedly. "That was rather rude of me."

"What I still don't get," Sadako growled, "is whether or not we should be calling Security on this applicant! Is he a villain or not?"

"He's done some very unkind things," Sesshoumaru pointed out. Dalamar folded his arms.

"_I_ think he's an anti-hero."

"Yes! He's an anti-hero!"

"No, he's a villain! Let him in!"

Mogget yawned, resting his white head on his white paws. "Considering the tizzy I've put you all in, I think that I should be admitted by default." Shouts rang through the High Council o' Much Evilness, which Raistlin silenced with another evil glare.

"Well, how does the High Council vote?"

Crickets chirped as the members considered their votes. Dilandau, who was still a Game Boy, flopped over onto one of the crickets with a maliciously gleeful beep.

Raistlin sighed. He should have known it would be a tie. He would just have to break it himself.

"Well, in lieu of a vote from the Council, I declare that—"

The door burst open, and in dashed a young woman with long black hair, a sword at her hip and a bandolier of bells across her chest. "Mogget shall not be President!" Lirael cried, lunging at Raistlin with her sword. He parried neatly with the Staff of Magius, but her other hand came around bearing the smallest of her bells. Ranna the Sleepbringer's high voice sang, and the heads of the High Council o' Much Evilness thudded on the table in unison as they immediately toppled forward, asleep. Lirael snatched up Mogget and bolted out the door.

Raistlin glanced left, then right. He had escaped the bell's spell thanks to his supreme willpower. Sadako never slept, so she remained awake. Dilandau was still a Game Boy, beeping in an angry manner that clearly indicated wakefulness.

He prodded Dalamar in the shoulder, and the handsome dark elf slumped to the floor, snoring contentedly.

Raistlin stood calmly, taking up the Staff of Magius and speaking into its crystal. "Attention, all personnel." His voice echoed from every magical loudspeaker in the fortress. "We have heroic infiltration. Repeat, we have heroic infiltration. Code Nix, one Abhorsen-in-Waiting in company of applicant Mogget of the free-magic variety, probably asleep. Last spotted in retreat from the interviewing room. Pursue and engage."

Finished, he pointed the Staff of Magius at Dilandau, who instantly became a human again. "Follow me. We're taking a break."

"It's about time!" Dilandau crowed, waving his sword.

And thus, Archmage Raistlin Majere strode out of the room in pursuit of the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, his two conscious henchmen lurching and skipping close behind.


End file.
